Iris Johansen (5 page)

Janna shook her head in wonder, her lips curving in an amused smile. There was something curiously magical about the appearance of her possessions in this fashion. She wondered whimsically if Santine’s Castle had its own bevy of elves who appeared after everyone was asleep, to whisk everything in order. She wouldn’t put it past Santine to be able to command that kind of service.

Still smiling, she unfastened her overnight bag and withdrew fresh underthings and disappeared into the bathroom. She deliberately took as long as she could with her usual morning toilette. She dressed in her khaki outfit once again and returned to the bedroom, pleased to see that the sky was streaked with the glorious lavender and pink of the sunrise. At least she wouldn’t be blundering around in the dark and possibly getting the Dobermans set on her again. Though it might not be a bad idea at that, she thought wistfully. She could use a little company on her ramble. She was briefly tempted to find the kennels to release them herself but reluctantly discarded the idea. She had an idea that those grim-faced security men wouldn’t be pleased if she made friends with their canine guards. No, she would have to go it alone.

She quietly left the bedroom and went through the silent, slumbering house to the courtyard door, through which she’d been brought last night. Unlocking it, she slipped through the brass-bracketed door, closed it softly behind her, and set off on her tour of exploration.

The estate grounds were just as lovely as the mansion itself, she soon discovered. She toured the estate, from the beige-and-rose mosaic-tiled courtyard, with its graceful fountain, to the charming bridle paths that abounded on the lush, verdant acreage. It was all very impressive, but it wasn’t until she emerged from the woods at the top of the cliff that she caught her breath at the sheer magnificence that lay before her.

The cliff fell steeply to the rugged, boulder-strewn beach below and overlooked the wild, crashing glory of the Pacific. There was nothing before her but the stormy primitive restlessness of the white curling waves pounding against the rocks below and the stretch of lonely golden sand that bordered Santine’s domain. Standing there with the fresh morning
breeze caressing her cheeks, she felt a joyous exhilaration surge through her that had been absent in her appreciation of the more civilized attractions of Santine’s estate.

It seemed that Santine also enjoyed this particular view, Janna thought as she climbed slowly up a slight incline to a redwood gazebo at the very edge of the cliff. The interior of the gazebo was small and cozy and was bordered by scarlet-cushioned benches. There were matching scarlet curtains hanging from the eaves, caught back by tasseled sashes to permit the sea breeze to whip through the enclosure with a very satisfying freedom.

Janna seated herself on the bench closest to the cliff’s edge and leaned her arms on the redwood wall, gazing out at the sparkling azure waters with a sigh of contentment. This was much closer to the wild, primitive beauty that filled her with a sense of belonging. From this vantage point she could see a steep rocky path a few hundred yards away that wound down the cliff to the beach below, but she wasn’t tempted to continue her exploration at the moment. It was so lovely here that all she wanted to do was sit and gaze dreamily out over the waters.

She stayed a long time, lost in the peace and tranquility that flowed into her as the tide flowed onto the sandy shore so far below her. It was only when she noticed that the sun was surprisingly high in the sky that she left the gazebo and slowly returned to the castle. Too slowly, evidently, for she was met at the courtyard door by a flustered young Mexican maid in a wine-colored uniform who’d obviously been stationed there to wait for her. “Señor Santine is waiting for the señorita,” she said disapprovingly. “Follow me,
por favor
.”

Janna smothered a smile as she obediently followed the maid through the impressive foyer and equally magnificent formal living room to the French doors that led to the terrace. It seemed Santine’s
servants weren’t accustomed to anyone’s treating his wishes with anything but reverent respect. If everyone in the castle behaved similarly, it was no wonder he was so arrogant.

The subject of her uncomplimentary thoughts was sitting, chair pushed back from an elegantly appointed damask-covered table. The alluring, negligeeclad blonde beside him was gazing at him with a cloying adoration not designed to lessen Santine’s opinion of himself. Not that Janna could really blame the woman for being physically attracted to Santine. The casual faded jeans he wore only served to emphasize the strong muscular column of his thighs and the hard flatness of his stomach, and the white crew-neck fisherman’s sweater not only complimented his virile darkness but made his massive shoulders appear even broader.

The glance he gave her was not nearly as approving when he looked up to see her walking through the French doors. In fact, there was a distinct flicker of annoyance, quickly hidden. “Good morning, Miss Cannon,” Santine said, rising lazily to his feet. “You’re looking very alert and wide awake this morning. I understand you’ve been exploring the grounds since daybreak. Security wasn’t at all sure you weren’t casing the place despite my assurance to the contrary. Do you always get up so early?”

Janna nodded. “Always. There aren’t enough hours in the day at the reserve,” she said softly. “Though I’d probably do it anyway. I’m definitely a day person.”

“While Diane, here, is definitely a night person,” he said mockingly, and there was no mistaking the double entendre in his allusion to his blond companion. “Interesting contrast.”

For a brief moment Janna felt a twinge of anger at the callous cruelty of the remark. How could Santine’s mistress bear the subtle insult in his manner toward her? He seemed to care not a whit if he hurt or embarrassed her. She turned to face the woman
seated across from Santine with a warm, sympathetic smile. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” she said gently. “I’m Janna Cannon. I’m going to be here for a while, and I hope we’ll be friends.”

Her smile was met by a blank, surprised stare from eyes that were as blue as a mountain lake. The woman was extraordinarily attractive, Janna thought impersonally. Though quite small, she was endowed with amazingly voluptuous curves, her long, whiteblond hair tumbling over her shoulders in a silky curtain. Her face, while not classically beautiful, had the fresh prettiness of a high-school cheerleader.

“How rude of me not to introduce you,” Santine said silkily, and she received the subtle impression that he was slightly incensed with her for some reason. “Janna, this is Diane Simmons, a very
close
associate.”

“How do you do,” Diane murmured, her smile absent, before turning back to Santine with an eagerness she didn’t bother to disguise. “It’s really quite inexpensive, considering the workmanship involved, Rafe. Do say that I may have it.”

“I’ll consider it,” Santine said noncommittally, his eyes on Janna. “We’ll discuss it later. Janna, come and sit down and have some breakfast. You no doubt worked up an appetite, with all your wanderings.” He gestured to the chair next to him. “You must have enjoyed the gazebo to stay there so long.”

“I loved it,” she said enthusiastically, coming forward and slipping into the place he’d indicated. Then a frown of puzzlement creased her brow. “How do you know how long I stayed there?” she asked curiously.

“Oh, Rafe has those video cameras planted all over the estate,” Diane said lightly, applying herself to the melon on her plate with dainty greed. “No one can make a move without security’s knowing all about it.”

“I see,” Janna said slowly, feeling strangely deflated.
The wonderful sensation of freedom and peace that she’d known on the cliff this morning had been nothing but a mirage. It was suddenly tainted with the knowledge that she’d been watched all the time by the casual, impersonal eyes of Santine’s security force.

Santine’s keen gaze was on her revealing face. “You don’t like the idea,” he observed flatly, his hand reaching for the silver coffeepot beside him and filling her cup.

“No, I don’t like it,” she agreed quietly, avoiding his eyes. She took a piece of toast and nibbled at it listlessly. “It seems a needless invasion of privacy.”

“Perhaps,” he said curtly. “But I regard it as necessary, so I’m afraid you’ll have to get used to it. It does have the advantage of allowing me to know the location of discourteous guests who fail to show up on time for breakfast.”

“I couldn’t exactly be put in that classification, could I?” Janna asked softly. “Guests generally have to be invited.”

Santine’s lips tightened ominously, and the dark eyes were flying storm signals. “You may have gatecrashed my fortress, but I thought I’d more than demonstrated my willingness to allow you to stay.”

Diane Simmons looked up from her melon with a tinkling laugh, her face smooth and expressionless as a pretty doll’s. “You mustn’t mind the cameras,” she said cheerfully, her hand reaching out to close affectionately over Santine’s. “Rafe assures me there aren’t any in the house, and that’s all that’s important.”

Janna looked at Diane’s blank, sunny face with startled amazement. It didn’t seem possible that the woman had missed the implications and subtle undercurrents that had been taking place in their conversation, but it appeared this was the case.

Santine shook off the blonde’s hand impatiently.

“Why don’t you run along and go for a swim, Diane?” he suggested bluntly.

She stood up obediently. “Will you be joining me?” she asked, smiling seductively at him. “I bought a brand-new bikini in town yesterday that I want to show you.”

“We’ll see,” he said casually. “I’m sure you’re quite beautiful in it.”

“It was very nice meeting you, Miss Simmons,” Janna said warmly, trying to make up for Santine’s offhandedness. “I hope I see you again soon.”

“What?” Diane glanced over at her for a vague instant before smiling brightly. “Oh, sure. It was nice meeting you, too.” She drifted off in a cloud of pink chiffon draperies.

Santine’s lips were quirking as he regarded the bewilderment on Janna’s face when she gazed after Diane Simmons. “I’m afraid your efforts at soothing her ruffled feelings are in vain, Janna. She’s really too stupid to be angered or hurt by anything but the most blatant insult. You’ll find that she’s very like a lovely Siamese cat, who only thinks when it’s absolutely necessary. Fortunately, with a luscious body like Diane’s, that necessity doesn’t arise too often.”

“You’re not being very kind,” Janna said disapprovingly. “Surely you owe Miss Simmons at least a semblance of courtesy.”

He stared at her in blank incredulity. “My God, I believe you’re actually taking me to task,” he said. “I don’t think anyone’s done that since I was fourteen years old.”

“Then someone should have done it long ago,” Janna said crisply. “You were very rude to Miss Simmons.”

“I thought we’d established that I wasn’t a kind man,” he said, frowning sulkily. “You needn’t champion Diane so enthusiastically. She’s quite capable of taking care of herself. Before she came to me she was under the protection of a Greek shipping magnate,
and before that she was with a British rock star. She may be stupid, but she knows the rules of the game.” His lips curved cynically. “And plays it very profitably, I might add.”

For a fleeting moment Santine had the guilty, cross expression of a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and it gave Janna the courage to persist. “That doesn’t exempt you from treating her with ordinary courtesy,” she said quietly. “Every human being deserves being accorded a modicum of dignity.”

Santine’s face clouded angrily, his dark eyes flashing stormily. Then, with a suddenness that caught Janna off guard, his forbidding scowl gave way to a broad grin of infinite amusement. Janna gazed in fascination at the amazing difference it made in his face. It was the first time she’d seen him with an expression reflecting anything but grim moodiness or mocking cynicism. Relaxed, he not only looked ten years younger but possessed a devastating attractiveness.

“I don’t recall ever being given a lecture on my treatment of a mistress by the prime candidate to succeed her,” he said wryly. “I can see that you’re going to provide me with a variety of new experiences.”

Janna’s eyes dropped to her coffee. She’d temporarily forgotten the terms of her stay at Santine’s Castle. “But you said you weren’t at all sure you’d exercise that particular option,” she said lightly. “I rather thought you might have changed your mind entirely by this morning.”

“You’ll find I very seldom change my mind about anything,” Santine said quietly. “I told Dawson to draw up the papers last night. Your professor was walking on air, and he understood perfectly the necessity of your staying here.”

“That’s more than I do.” Janna made a wry face. “I’m not going to prove very entertaining for a man
of your tastes, Mr. Santine. We’re as different as night and day.”

“How do you know what my tastes in women are?” he asked softly, and Janna looked up suddenly to catch a flicker in the darkness of his eyes. “Perhaps I’m ready for a change from the Dianes of the world. Slightly stupid women are comfortable to be around, as they demand nothing but what I want to give them, but they can also be very dull. I have an idea that whatever you’ll be to me, it won’t be boring, Janna.”

Janna felt a nervous shiver run through her, and she lowered her eyes, hurriedly taking another bite of toast. “The bargain stands, then?” she asked huskily.

“It stands,” he replied implacably. Then, with a trace of impatience in his voice, he exclaimed, “For God’s sake, put that toast down and take something more nourishing. You’re so thin you look almost breakable.”

Before she could reply, to her amazement he had scooped a helping of fluffy scrambled eggs on her plate as well as three slices of bacon. “Now, eat, damn it.”

“But I never have more than toast and coffee for breakfast,” she protested, looking down at the plate distastefully. “This is much too much.”

“Then it’s a wonder you’re as healthy as you are,” he said tersely, pouring himself a second cup of coffee. “While you’re in my charge you’ll eat what I tell you to.” He smiled grimly. “I may not ever have had a pet, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to care for one.”